Crowns and Magic Mirrors
by Luzita
Summary: Sam and Daniel accidentally step through the quantum mirror into a post-apocalyptic Earth, and discover that the absolute ruler of this neo-medieval society has a very familiar face. SJ, AU
1. Chapter 1

"So _that's_ what had you up all night. Wow!"

I started at the sound of Daniel's voice and looked up from the microscope, finding that he had appeared at the door of my lab. He was holding a steaming mug and a paper plate with a Danish, and gaping at the quantum mirror across from my lab bench. Glancing at the clock, I was surprised to see it was 0546.

"That's right, it's morning," said Daniel, smiling sympathetically as he approached me. Daniel understood about pulling all-nighters without even noticing. "I came in early today, and Sergeant Harriman told me you'd never left, so I thought I'd bring you some breakfast." He set the mug and plate down next to me.

"Thanks," I responded. But Daniel's gaze had returned to the quantum mirror. Walking quickly over to it, he began peering inside one of the open hatches in its thick, rough-hewn frame.

"How'd you get it open?" he asked excitedly.

"Alternate-Sam told me about the access panels while we were working on that power booster for her reality's Stargate." I gestured toward the tangle of wires that now hung out of an opening in the mirror's slanted top. They trailed across the floor and into the hastily constructed apparatus on my lab bench. "She also gave me some pointers on the control interface, so I was able to cobble together a crude substitute for the mirror remote."

"Weird!" exclaimed Daniel, still peering inside the open hatch. "Doesn't look like machinery in there. The whole frame of the mirror is just stuffed with… well, it looks like wads of metallic cloth." He turned back toward me with a puzzled expression. "But didn't General Hammond order that the mirror be sent to Area 51 for demolition?"

"Yes, he did. Now that we know people can dial in from multiple alternate realities, we have to acknowledge the mirror is a huge security risk. But given the new information that Alternate-Sam provided, I persuaded him we shouldn't destroy the mirror without making another attempt to understand its technology."

An amused glint came into Daniel's eyes. Eyebrows twitching, he said, "You mean you begged him to let you play with it one last time, and he caved."

I had to smile. There was some truth to Daniel's words. Savvy man that he was, General Hammond had pointedly asked how well the "other Sam" understood the mirror technology. And I'd had to admit that, despite having known about the access panels for some time, she'd only made headway on the control interface. The reality-shifting mechanism itself was so alien she couldn't make heads or tails of it. And since _she_ was essentially _me_, that strongly suggested I wouldn't be able to understand it, either. But I how could I not try? I had to see the mirror's bizarre innards for myself!

Using a pair of tweezers, I held up the small piece of gray "gauze" that I had been studying. How marvelously unbelievable that this bit of material contained the potential to build bridges to other realities! To the naked eye, the weave seemed almost smooth, giving little hint of the intricate structure I had seen under the microscope. But as I slowly turned it, the "cloth" sparkled strangely. Some of the flashes were amazingly intense. I suspected the material wasn't just reflecting light, but amplifying it. How did it do that, and what did it mean?

"Is that mirror-material?" exclaimed Daniel.

"Yes. I was able to remove a few small pieces. I'm hoping General Hammond will let me keep them even if the mirror is destroyed."

Daniel looked at the swatches of mirror-material scattered on my lab bench, and then at all the wires sprouting out of the mirror's frame, and then questioningly back at me. "_If_ it's destroyed?"

Squirming a little, I said, "Since the mirror is likely to be demolished anyway, it's not important for my analysis to be completely non-destructive." The truth was, I'd been cutting more and more corners as the night wore on. Though I'd lost track of the exact hour, I hadn't lost the sense of being under time-pressure. "I'm supposed to brief General Hammond at 0700," I told Daniel, "and if I can't report that I've got a handle on unraveling the mirror's principles of operation, he'll go ahead with the demolition."

"So," asked Daniel, "_have_ you got a handle on it?"

"Not really," I muttered. A surge of frustration hit me. I set the swatch of mirror-material down among the other samples and threw up my hands. "Actually, not at all. I can't even begin to guess how this crazy stuff works! For one thing, the mirror seems to be operating normally despite the loss of these pieces." Turning to my jury-rigged mirror-controller, I flicked the "on" switch.

The dark surface of the mirror came to life, showing an empty corridor in the SGC. "How about that," I said. "No Jaffa in the picture. But judging by the scorches on the walls, they're somewhere nearby." Working on the mirror all night had been disturbing. I'd caught glimpses of over a hundred alternate realities, and the great majority featured Jaffa and Goa'uld stomping around inside the familiar spaces of the SGC. "It's humbling to look in that mirror and _see_ the fate we've escaped by the skin of our teeth," I said.

Daniel nodded. "Or to step through that mirror and see, hear, touch, smell, and taste it. To actually experience _what_ _might have been_…" Daniel's brow furrowed. "Isn't General Hammond being too hasty about discarding the mirror? After all, we just saved an alternate Earth from a Goa'uld invasion by putting them in touch with the Asgard." Gesturing toward my apparatus, he said, "Now that we have a way to control our mirror again, think of the possibilities. Couldn't we use it to contact some incredibly advanced and benevolent race that doesn't even _exist_ in our reality? A race that would help us even more than the Asgard have?"

Leave it to Daniel to focus on the potential up-side of any situation. "If that were possible, then it would also be possible we'd run into some unimaginably monstrous race even worse than the Goa'uld," I pointed out. "But, actually, though quantum theory does posit infinite alternate realities, the mirror can't possibly reach more than a tiny fraction of them. For the mirror to establish a link between two realities, there has to be a quantum mirror _on the other side_, too. That means the other reality has to be enough like ours to include the chain of events that led to the quantum mirror being built. And there apparently needs to be a degree of spatial co-location between the two mirrors, in addition to the temporal co-location. That's what Alternate-Sam believed. And I think she was right, because I've been flipping through realities all night and I've yet to see one that looks as if it's not Earth. So I don't think the mirror can reach realities in which its counterpart isn't located in the same spatial neighborhood. On the same planet, at least."

Daniel pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. "I see what you're saying." Then he cocked his head thoughtfully. "So anything we see in this mirror would be an alternate Earth?" he asked.

"Yes," I said. "And it would have to be an alternate Earth that has a quantum mirror on it."

Daniel looked at me, eyes alight with that passionate curiosity I understood so well. "Wonder what the limits are?" he mused. "How 'alternate' could things get, and still result in a quantum mirror arriving on Earth?"

We smiled at one other. The question _was_ intriguing. "Guess it won't hurt to take a peek," I said. Turning to my mirror-controller, I slid every lever to the "maximum difference" setting. "Okay. That should do it." I looked up eagerly, curious to see what strange vista might be revealed. But the quantum mirror's trapezoidal frame held only darkness.

"Why isn't it working, Sam?" asked Daniel, sounding crestfallen.

I glanced at my readouts. "It _is_ working. It must just be dark on the other side."

Daniel went and stood so close to the mirror that his nose was practically touching it. He even cupped his hands around his eyes, like someone trying to look out into the night through the window of a lighted room.

"_Careful_, Daniel!" I exclaimed. "Don't touch the mirror!"

"Are you kidding? I'm the one who accidentally fell 'Through the Looking Glass' the first time, remember? There's no way I'd make that mistake again." His words were muffled, because he still had his face right up against the mirror with his hands cupped around it. The edges of his hands seemed to be about a millimeter away from the surface.

I slid off my chair and came around the lab bench. He was making me nervous.

"I see something, Sam! There's a little red light over there. No, it's gone now. Wait, there it is again! It's blinking."

Before I knew it, I found myself doing the same thing as Daniel – standing right in front of the mirror, trying to peer into the darkness on the other side. And then I saw it, too. "Yes! You're right, Daniel. There was a small light over…" My words broke off when a strange tingle flashed through my body. With disorienting suddenness, I found myself standing in the dark.

"Sam!" Daniel's agitated voice came out of the darkness beside me. "You touched the mirror!"

"I did not!" I protested. "Besides, if _I_ touched the mirror, how come _you're_ here, too?"

"_You're_ the physicist; you tell _me_."

Daniel's voice had acquired a sharp edge, as it often did when he was tense. I ignored him. The analytical part of my brain was racing through possibilities. It always kicked into high-gear when faced with the unexpected, insulating me from the distractions of emotion. Putting out my hands, I touched Daniel on my left. On my right, I encountered shelving crowded with unfamiliar objects – which certainly didn't exist in my lab. So that eliminated any dim hope that maybe the lights had just gone out at the SGC. In front of me, in the same relative position as before, I could feel the smooth, cool surface of the quantum mirror. Smooth, cool, and _dark_.

_Oh, no._ Pushing down my rising anxiety, I said, "I don't think either of us touched the mirror. It's possible that removing material from the inner mechanism created a small instability in the mirror's reality-shifting field. If the field expanded outward for a split-second, right when we were standing so close…" I wanted to kick myself. I should have realized the danger.

"Okay," said Daniel. "That explains how we got here. But I can feel the quantum mirror right in front of me, so why can't we see your lab? Why have we lost the connection?"

"Evidently," I said, "the passage of objects through an unstable field caused the mirror to… turn off."

There was a pregnant pause. And then Daniel said, "Sam, you didn't _break_ the quantum mirror, did you?"

Daniel had voiced my fear. There _was_ a distinct possibility that our passage through the weakened field had broken our mirror. And if that were the case, then no matter what we did with the mirror on this side, we'd never be able to get back to our own particular reality.

Absurdly, what came into my head was that old superstition that breaking a mirror would give you seven years of bad luck. If you got seven years for breaking a _regular_ mirror, how much bad luck did you get for breaking a _quantum_ mirror?

Then again, we might not have to worry about _years_ of bad luck. If this reality contained living counterparts of Daniel and myself, we'd start to suffer from entropic cascade failure within a couple of days. I wasn't sure how long it would take for the effect to kill us, but it wouldn't be very long. Probably no more than another couple of days. How unlucky was that?

_Get a grip, Sam. What would the Colonel say? _As soon I thought of the Colonel, I felt calmer. I knew exactly what he'd say.

"Our mirror isn't broken, Daniel. Start looking for this mirror's remote."

"You mean _feeling_ for it," he said.

Soon, we were both stumbling around in the dark, bumping into shelves and passing our hands frantically over a clutter of objects. We appeared to be in some sort of storage room. Daniel's little blinking light turned out to be attached to an unidentifiable apparatus. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I became able to make out a few outlines by the little light's intermittent glow, but it was too dim to see any details.

"Hey," said Daniel, "I found the door."

"Don't open it! We're not here to explore. Our goal is to get back to our own reality as quickly as possible. We need to find the remote for this mirror, and it's most likely stored in here, too."

"If they _have_ a remote. After all, we don't." After this unhelpful comment, I heard some clicking and rattling coming from Daniel's direction, and then, "_Damn_. I found the light switch, but it doesn't work. And the door's locked."

I should have known he'd try the door no matter what I said. I loved Daniel like a brother; but, like a brother, he could be a little annoying at times.

"Daniel," I said, "we need to be more systematic about this. The mirror remote has a very distinctive shape, so I'm sure we'll be able to recognize it. We just have to go through every shelf and examine every object, one by one. Why don't I search this half of the room, while you search the other?" Daniel agreed, and we began the tedious business of methodically searching the shelves by touch alone. We'd only been at it for about five minutes when there was a sudden noise. I instinctively ducked behind some shelving just as hinges creaked and the room was flooded with light.

A man stood framed in the open doorway, holding a kerosene lantern. Judging by the shocked expression on his face, we hadn't ducked fast enough. He'd seen us.

"Don't be afraid," called Daniel. "We come in peace."

The door slammed shut, and I heard the lock turning. A few seconds after that, an alarm began to clamor.

"Guess he didn't believe me," said Daniel.

"I can't blame him. If I discovered that strangers had materialized inside a locked storeroom, I'd sound the alarm, too."

"Did you notice the clothes he was wearing?" asked Daniel. "They looked hand-made. Pre-industrial. I wonder what that means?"

"I think we're going to find out. Whether we like it or not."

Soon, I heard the trample of many boots. The door burst open.

"Don't shoot! We're unarmed!" I cried, showing myself and putting my hands in the air.

Daniel did the same and repeated, "We come in peace!" I couldn't help imagining the look that would have gotten from the Colonel.

"Come out with your hands on your heads," someone barked.

We complied, and found ourselves standing in a dimly lit corridor, surrounded by about two-dozen men in strange uniforms. They were armed with a motley collection of weapons. Some had zats, some had staff weapons, and others had pistols. Curiously, all the pistols seemed to be older models. But the real kicker was that the soldiers had swords slung from their belts, too.

Even though the zats and staff weapons proved the Goa'uld had been here, I felt reassured. The soldiers weren't Jaffa, and the Goa'uld rarely let mere humans use their weapons. That strongly suggested these people weren't currently under Goa'uld rule.

"Who are you?" demanded one of the soldiers. Judging by his golden epaulets, he was in charge. "How did you get inside the fortress?"

The fortress? Shifting my attention from the soldiers to our surroundings, I realized with a start that we were inside the SGC. It was amazing how different it looked by the unsteady light of a kerosene lantern.

No, wait – it wasn't just the lighting that was out-of-date. To be sure, _our_ Cheyenne Mountain had some ancient equipment in it. I'd run across stuff that had probably been in place since the early sixties, when the installation was first built. But as I studied the worn switch boxes and conduits on the walls here, I got the impression that _everything_ was several decades old, and some of it was clearly not in working order. Even the colored stripes on the floor were nearly scuffed-out.

I was struck by a dizzying sense of unreality. This was the same corridor I'd walked down nearly every working day of my life – and yet, it wasn't. It was supposed to be part of a high-tech installation, but in the wavering shadows cast by the lantern, it felt more like the hallway of some medieval castle. And I was standing in it with my hands on top of my head, being menaced by men armed with zats _and_ swords.

Closing my eyes for a moment, I tried to re-orient myself. This was my first time through the quantum mirror. Being immersed in an alternate reality felt very different from just looking into the mirror and seeing one. I'd been through the Stargate many times, of course, but that hadn't prepared me for this. The Stargate merely took you to another planet; it didn't drop you down the rabbit-hole.

I opened my eyes and looked at Daniel, remembering his comments about stepping "Through the Looking Glass." The lantern light painted his face in chiaroscuro contrasts. For a second, he seemed as distant as one of those long-dead people who gaze out at you from Old Masters portraits. Then he gave me a small, empathic smile, and I immediately felt more anchored. I _knew_ that smile. Daniel was really _here_, and really Daniel. He and I might be only half the team, but we knew how to feed off each other's strengths. I smiled back at him.

Daniel fixed his attention on the man with the epaulets and said, "I'm sorry if we've alarmed you. We didn't mean to trespass. My name is Dr. Daniel Jackson, and this is my colleague, Major Samantha Carter. We're peaceful explorers who came here by accident, through the quantum mirror in your storeroom." He jerked his elbow toward the door of the storeroom, since his hands had to stay on his head. "All we really want is to get back to our own world as quickly as possible."

Daniel's voice had acquired that special sincerity it always got when he was making first contact with a strange culture. And this one was definitely _very_ strange. I was glad he was here to exercise his expertise.

But Daniel's anthropological instincts had failed this time, because the man with the epaulets looked even more hostile than before. "Do you think we're stupid?" he asked, lip curling in disgust. "There's no chappa'ai in that storeroom."

"They're spies, Captain," cried one of the other men. "Or perhaps assassins! They're here to kill the King!" At this suggestion, a visible wave of anger swept through the soldiers. Bodies tensed, grips tightened on weapons, and expressions grew even harder.

"_No!"_ said Daniel. "We mean no harm to any of you!" His earnest blue gaze flicked over the crowd, meeting the eyes of several of the common soldiers before returning to the leader. "You're right, sir, there's no chappa'ai in that room. But there's another device that's also a portal to other worlds. It looks like a large mirror, with a thick, stone frame. Um, perhaps you could consult with whoever's responsible for the equipment in that storeroom. Perhaps they would know of it."

Maybe I'd spent too much time around the Colonel, but that seemed overly optimistic to me. I didn't think these people knew what the quantum mirror did. Actually, I was beginning to suspect no one here would know the first thing about quantum mechanics.

"It's true," said a voice from the back of the crowd. It was the man who'd discovered Daniel and myself in the storeroom. He was still holding the lantern. "There is a device such as they describe. But no one has ever come _through_ it, as if it were a chappa'ai."

"Then we must be the first to visit you," Daniel quickly asserted. "Though our visit was unintentional. As I said, we came through by accident. We bear no ill will toward your King. We know nothing about him."

Daniel had apparently said the wrong thing again, because another wave of anger moved through the crowd. "Now they _insult_ the King," muttered one of soldiers.

"You pretend to know nothing of the man who forced Ra to leave Earth?" demanded the Captain, his voice full of outrage. "The man who freed the entire world from the evil yoke of the Goa'uld?"

"I meant no insult!" exclaimed Daniel. "I am only an ignorant stranger in your world. If I have given offense in my ignorance, I apologize with all my heart. For now that I know of his deeds, it is clear to me that your King is a very great man."

This seemed to mollify the soldiers. I decided to speak up. "We don't belong here," I said. "We need to get back to our own world. Please, could you help us? I promise you, once we get back through the quantum mirror, no one from our world will ever bother you again."

"Unless your King desires otherwise," added Daniel. "Our world is different, but we do know some things about the Goa'uld. _And_ the Goa'uld's enemies. We might know things that could help you."

I winced a little. If the Colonel were here, he'd probably think that was too much information. But I understood where Daniel was coming from. We'd just helped save an alternate Earth from a Goa'uld invasion. _This_ alternate Earth had already freed itself from a Goa'uld regime – much as the Ancient Egyptians had. Apparently, in this reality, Ra had been kicked off the Earth _twice_. But he'd obviously left it in sorry shape. He'd knocked these people back into the Middle Ages. It was natural to want to help them.

The Captain frowned. "Could what they say be true?" he asked the man with lantern. "Could that storeroom contain a doorway to other worlds?"

"I don't know, sir," the man replied. "I do little more than clean in there. Only Councilor Cray would know such things."

The Captain turned back toward us. "I've a mind to let Councilor Cray examine you," he warned. "He was a _scientist_ in the Before-Time. You couldn't get anything past _him_." He watched us carefully, apparently waiting for signs of nervousness.

"The Before-Time," said Daniel, savoring the odd phrase. "That means the time before the Goa'uld invaded, doesn't it?"

The Captain looked disgusted again. "_Of course_ that's what it means."

Daniel and I exchanged hopeful glances.

"We would be honored to meet with Councilor Cray," said Daniel.

"Yes," I agreed. "We would _very much_ like to speak with him." Maybe there was someone here who knew about quantum mechanics, after all.

-----


	2. Chapter 2

Our eagerness to see Councilor Cray did not seem to have reassured the Captain. On the contrary, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.

Rather than replying to us directly, he addressed his men. "We're moving the prisoners," he told them. "If they take their hands off their heads, or make any suspicious move at all, shoot them." He turned and began walking down the corridor. We followed him, surrounded by his troop.

"Are you taking us to see Councilor Cray?" I inquired.

"Not if you keep asking," the Captain replied. When Daniel started trying to find out about the history of this alternate reality, the Captain told him to shut up, and one of the soldiers underscored the command by jabbing Daniel with his staff weapon. So we walked on in silence.

We rounded a corner and saw a stretch of corridor ahead that had electric lights. So, at least some of the Mountain's diesel generators were operational, along with at least part of the electrical infrastructure. It seemed these people weren't _completely_ medieval.

After we entered the lighted portion of the complex, the Captain ordered our procession to a halt. Then he continued down the corridor alone, to where a phone hung on the wall. Turning his back to us, he picked up the receiver, dialed, and began speaking – too softly to make out what he was saying.

I looked at Daniel, then at the Captain on the phone, then back at Daniel, and widened my eyes. I knew Daniel would understand my silent comment: _Hey! Working phones, too! Maybe they're not so bad off._ All of us on SG-1 had gotten so good at reading each other – especially when we were in hot water – that it sometimes felt like we had some sort of telepathy going.

Daniel pressed his lips together and gave a small shake of his head. Then he let his eyes move around this hallway of Alternate Cheyenne Mountain, and gave a couple of slight jerks of his chin toward the soldiers in their blue uniforms. _Look where we are,_ he was saying.

I got his point. If Cheyenne Mountain was the great King's "fortress," that meant these people's best resources were concentrated here. So if they couldn't even power the whole installation, what did that say about conditions _beyond_ the "fortress?"

The Captain got off the phone and turned toward us. "Sergeant Masey," he called.

A man of about twenty, with gold chevrons on his sleeve, stepped forward and stood to attention. "Sir," he said.

"I've been called away. You're in charge in my absence. Take the intruders to the holding cells and have them thoroughly searched. To the _skin_, Sergeant. Make sure they don't have any _scientific_ objects hidden in their clothes _or_ on their persons."

The sergeant gave me an troubled glance. "_Both_ of them, sir? Even the woman?"

The Captain grimaced impatiently. "I'll have the Mistress of the Royal Chambers summoned to search the woman. But you are to keep careful watch while she does so. You are _not_ to allow the concerns of modesty to impede your duty. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," said the young sergeant, looking uncomfortable.

_Oh, great,_ I thought. _We're going to be strip-searched._ I was upset with myself for letting the idea bother me as much as it did. Though I'd taught myself to overcome the intense shyness I'd felt as a child, flashes of it still plagued me sometimes.

"_I think my little shrinking violet is hiding."_ How old had I been when Dad had said that? Nine, maybe? I was sure Dad had no idea how his words had stayed with me. They'd been an off-hand remark to a visiting friend, and spoken with affection. But there'd been something dismissive in his tone, too. An image had come into my head, of Mom's potted African violets. They were so pretty, but so delicate. Mom had to watch over them carefully: misting them often, feeding them just the right amount of fertilizer; and, above all, making sure they never got too much sun.

I could feel my jaw clench and my spine straighten, just as they had all those years ago. Because Dad had been right – I _had _been hiding. But I'd surprised him by coming out to meet his friend. That had been the beginning of the end of "Sam the Shrinking Violet."

We all started moving down the corridor again. But at the next branch, the Captain and the man with the kerosene lantern left us.

I shared a glance with Daniel. It seemed the Captain had gone to report in person to his superiors. Our fate was probably still to be decided.

We followed Sergeant Masey to a hallway that had several steel doors, each inset with a small, barred window. There, Daniel and I were separated. Three soldiers took Daniel through one door, while Sergeant Masey himself escorted me through another.

So Daniel rated three guards, while I only rated one? That was no doubt because I was a woman. I got the feeling these people were old-fashioned about gender roles. As we waited in the bare cell, I surreptitiously studied Sergeant Masey. He was holding a zat on me, but standing too close. I was pretty sure I could take him down, and appropriate his weapons.

But if I did, what then? The rest of the soldiers were still out in the hallway. And even if I were able to free Daniel and get us back to the storeroom, would there be any point? We still didn't know if there was a mirror remote in the storeroom. And if there wasn't, I'd need these people's aid to construct another mirror-controller. No, our best bet was to cooperate with our captors and try to win them over.

Especially if I'd broken the quantum mirror in our reality – as seemed probable. In that case, it would be impossible for us to get home no matter what. We might be forced to live out the rest of our lives here.

_We don't know the mirror's broken, Carter._ Though the Colonel wasn't present, I could almost hear his voice. His calm, beautiful voice, urging me to pull back from speculation, disregard the odds, and focus on what needed doing. _Sorry, sir. I think too much._

A man's face appeared at the barred opening in the door. "Sergeant," the man said, "Mistress Phillipa has arrived."

"Send her in," said Sergeant Masey.

The steel door rattled open, and a hard-faced woman stepped in. She had graying hair pulled back into a bun, and was wearing a calf-length dress with long sleeves and a ring of keys hanging at the belt. The dress was made of the same blue cloth as the soldiers' uniforms, and there was an unfamiliar emblem embroidered over the left breast: a golden eagle inside a circle of stars.

Her eyes fell on me. She glared sternly while the door was closed and re-locked behind her.

"Mistress Phillipa," began Sergeant Masey, "we need you to…"

She cut him off. "I know why I'm here." She marched briskly over, keys jangling. Looking down her nose at me – which was quite a feat, given that she was a head shorter – she said, "Remove your clothes, one piece at a time, and hand them to me for inspection." Her voice crackled with disdainful authority. I sort of admired that. She would have made a good drill sergeant.

"Fine," I said. "I have nothing to hide." As I began to unbutton my uniform jacket, Sergeant Masey hastily retreated to a corner of the room. While I stripped, he kept his zat pointed in my general direction, but couldn't keep his eyes on me. He kept looking away and blushing furiously. Poor guy. He seemed more embarrassed than I was.

Mistress Phillipa examined my jacket, tee-shirt, and pants with great thoroughness, turning out all the pockets, and even ripping the lining open in spots with a little knife. When she pulled the shoulder patches off my jacket, I had to suppress a smile at how much the Velcro puzzled her. She examined my sports bra with perplexed disapproval, and handled my panties as if they might bite her. Then she patted me down, her calloused hands blessedly impersonal.

While she inspected me, I inspected her, too. I realized she wasn't as old as I'd first thought. Her face was weathered rather than aged. She was probably in her early forties.

And I got a close look at the emblem on her dress. The golden eagle inside the circle of stars was apparently a bald eagle, because its head and tail feathers were white. The stars looked like the ones on the flag, but there weren't fifty of them. There weren't thirteen, either. I counted, and there were only nine. So the emblem looked sort of American, but not like anything I'd ever seen before. I wondered what Daniel would make of it.

After Mistress Phillipa finished her examination, she put the meager contents of my pockets – a ball point pen, a Swiss Army knife, a small roll of duct tape – into a drawstring bag. She put my shoulder patches in there, too.

"Are we done?" I asked. "Can I put my clothes back on?"

"Yes," she curtly replied.

"Gee, thanks."

Fortunately, I'd already gotten my pants and tee-shirt back on when a soldier's face appeared in the little window again. "Captain Lance is back, Sergeant. He says if you're done searching the woman, you're to bring her out."

After I put on my jacket, we exited the cell. Daniel was already in the hallway, being handcuffed. "Hey, Sam," he said. "You okay?"

"I'm fine. You?"

"Shut up," barked Captain Lance. He looked even grimmer than before. Whatever he'd been told, it hadn't made him happy. "Are you sure the prisoners have been thoroughly searched?" he asked Sergeant Masey.

"Yes, sir. This is all they had on them," said Sergeant Masey, handing two drawstring bags to the Captain. Meanwhile, a soldier pulled my arms behind my back and handcuffed me.

"Umm," said Daniel, "I really hate to ask, but…"

"_Shut up,"_ repeated Captain Lance. He lifted the Goa'uld pain stick that was now attached to his belt and said, "You know what this is?"

We nodded.

"Make one wrong move while we're in the Presence, and you'll get a taste of it. Go ahead, just give me an excuse."

"The Presence?" I asked.

Daniel seemed excited. "We're going to see the King?"

Captain Lance looked as if he'd tasted something sour. And Mistress Phillipa spoke up, her voice harsh with worry. "I don't think it's wise to bring these strangers into the Presence, Captain. Gaining access to His Majesty is probably the very reason they snuck into the fortress!"

"I agree with you, ma'am. But His Majesty has commanded it. He insists on seeing these intruders for himself."

"I assure you," began Daniel, "we mean no harm to your King or…"

"_Shut up!_" snapped Captain Lance, waving the pain stick menacingly. "You'll speak only when spoken to. When the Royal Councilors question you, you'll answer with respect. And if His Majesty deigns to address you, you'll reply with the _most profound_ respect. As trespassers, you'll remain on your knees throughout the audience. You'll bow down and touch your foreheads to the floor when His Majesty enters, and again when he leaves. Is that clear?"

Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and marched down the corridor. Two soldiers took hold of my handcuffed arms and pulled me along after him, while two more gave Daniel the same treatment. Jeez, it wasn't as if we were resisting! But when it came to their King, these people seemed over-the-top. I mean, come on. The "Presence?"

We reached an elevator. Daniel and I were escorted in by Captain Lance, Sergeant Masey, and several other soldiers. We got out at Sublevel 28, but it didn't look at all like the SGC I knew. The utilitarian walls of the installation were hidden behind silk brocade drapes, and the floor was carpeted.

After the elevator delivered the rest of the soldiers, we started moving again. Unlike the level we'd come from, the hallways here were busy. I saw plenty more soldiers in blue uniforms, but there were also civilians in old-fashioned-looking business clothes, and servants in livery. They all made way for our large, armed party without question.

When we ended up at the door of the Gate Room, Daniel and I exchanged startled glances. But once we'd entered, we discovered that the Gate Room was completely transformed, too.

There was no Stargate. Opposite from where the great ring stood in our reality, there was a dais with an empty golden throne. The control room window should have been directly above the throne, but if it was present in this reality, it wasn't visible. The two-story-high walls of the Gate Room were completely draped in silk. On the wall behind the throne, the fabric was plain blue except for a large eagle-and-stars emblem. But on the other three walls, the hangings consisted of intricately embroidered tapestries.

The tapestries were so huge, and the scenes they depicted so detailed, that I had trouble taking it all in. But the scenes seemed to tell a story as you progressed around the room. Over the door through which we'd entered, I saw a Goa'uld pyramid ship descending onto a peak that I recognized as Cheyenne Mountain. Near it were depictions of mushroom clouds, cities in flames, fleeing refugees, and piles of human bodies. On the other side of the room, over the opposite door, the pyramid ship was shown lifting off from Cheyenne Mountain, with cheering crowds in the foreground. In between was a kind of symbolic landscape filled with scenes of fighting and death. There must have been thousands of figures of humans and Jaffa, all painstakingly picked out in silk thread. Here and there, always surrounded by carnage, was a figure wearing an elaborate costume, with a sun disk behind his head.

I realized this was the story of the Goa'uld occupation of this alternate Earth. My mouth went dry as I tried to grasp the scale of devastation and suffering this world had endured. The great tapestries, with their mind-boggling detail, were amazingly effective at suggesting it.

Daniel and I were directed to kneel in front of the dais. Daniel kept craning his head around, obviously mesmerized by the tapestries. Captain Lance positioned himself next to Daniel, while Sergeant Masey was next to me. The rest of the soldiers stood behind us.

Sergeant Masey leaned forward and whispered, "Remember what Captain Lance told you about behaving properly in the Presence." Patting the pain stick that now hung from his belt, too, he said, "Don't make me use this."

I was tempted to say that the manufacturers of the pain stick would have been pleased. Using torture to enforce the rules of protocol was exactly what you'd expect from a Goa'uld.

The thought sent a pang of worry through me. Was it possible this King had been taken over by a Goa'uld, and these people didn't even know it? Then my eyes fell on the throne, which seemed oddly low-slung and unimposing for a throne. To my bemusement, I realized it was actually an easy chair upholstered in gold fabric. Comfort over ostentation? I couldn't imagine a Goa'uld going for that.

A man emerged from behind the blue drapes that surrounded the dais. He must have come down the stairs from the control room. He had a ceremonial-looking staff in one hand, and a trumpet in the other, and was wearing a tabard with the eagle-and-stars symbol. He pounded his staff on the floor three times and called out, "Hear ye, hear ye. All rise for the Most Honorable Royal Council."

The soldiers stood to attention, but the command to rise didn't apply to Daniel and myself. We were kept on our knees as four elderly men and an elderly woman emerged from behind the drapes and arrayed themselves around the throne. One of the men wore a uniform with lots of medals – real medals, not the symbolic bits of ribbon I was used to. The other three men wore suits in sober colors, while the woman was dressed in a pastel pink suit that brought to mind old footage of First Lady Jackie Kennedy. She even had a pillbox hat on her gray curls.

I wondered which of them was Councilor Cray. My bet was on a short, partially bald man whose magnified eyes blinked at us from behind thick glasses.

The "herald" – I supposed that was the proper term – put the trumpet to his lips and blew a fanfare. Then he solemnly announced, "Our Revered Champion, the Defender of the Earth, the Protector of the Innocent; by the Grace of God and the Will of the People, King of Greater Colorado, and High King of the New North American Confederation: His Royal Majesty, Jonathan I."

All the soldiers bowed deeply. Sergeant Masey pushed my head down to the floor, while Captain Lance did the same to Daniel.

When we were allowed to look up again, the King was sitting on his throne. His blue uniform had the sheen of silk, and jewels glinted among the decorations that crowded his chest. But it was his crown that really dazzled. At the front was a finely wrought golden eagle with its head and tail pavéd in diamonds, while diamond-pavéd stars were mounted all around. The stars formed a scintillating halo around his head.

My jaw dropped in shock, because I recognized the face beneath that crown. It was the Colonel!

_No, it wasn't._ This man had a long scar running down his right cheek. But even without that obvious difference, I couldn't have mistaken him for my Colonel. His whole face was subtly different, though it was hard to say exactly how. He seemed older; yet, at the same time, ageless. As he sat there on his throne, expressionless and completely still, he could almost have been a bejeweled monument rather than a living man.

Then the King's gaze, which had been on Daniel, flicked over to me. When our eyes met, a jolt of attraction hit my body. And, had those obsidian eyes come to life? Was there an answering heat in their depths?

I blinked and looked down, profoundly unsettled. Images and memories buzzed around in my head…

_There I was, finally landing the assignment I'd wanted for years – the one I suspected I hadn't gotten earlier due to my sex. But then I saw _him_. A tall, lean body that carried off dress blues with casual grace; a sternly masculine face softened by warm eyes and an enigmatic smile. When my gaze met his, something slammed into my heart._

_I immediately told myself it was just nerves. I was _not_ experiencing a magnetic attraction to the CO I'd only just met. That would be ridiculous._

But I'd gone on to make that embarrassing speech about reproductive organs, complete with a reference to arm-wrestling. The minute the Colonel's gaze left me, and I became aware once again of General Hammond and the other officers sitting around the conference table, I'd felt mortified. The struggle to hide my discomfort had helped blur the memory of my initial reaction to the Colonel. I'd almost managed to convince myself it never really happened. But now, in a bizarre way, I was once again meeting Jonathan O'Neill "for the first time." And I was experiencing that same powerful, irrational "first impression" all over again!

As if that wasn't enough, another memory began clamoring for attention. This one was much more recent, but I'd pushed it to the back of my mind. I'd been too busy thinking about the quantum mirror's technology to spend any time thinking about that mind-bending scene I'd witnessed _in_ the mirror…

Daniel's voice pulled me from my disturbing thoughts. _"Jack,"_ he breathed. It was just an astonished whisper, but in the hush that had fallen over the throne room, it seemed very loud.

I looked up to see Captain Lance's features twist with rage. "_What_ did you say?" he growled. "_What_ did you call our _King_?" He shoved the Goa'uld pain stick against Daniel's back, and kept shoving while Daniel cried out and fell forward. Soon Daniel was pinned to the floor under the pain stick, gasping and writhing in agony.

"No!" I yelled, struggling to lunge at the Captain. But Sergeant Masey and another soldier held me down. _"Sir!"_ I cried out, turning desperately toward that almost-familiar face. "Sir, make them stop!"

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a movement. It was Sergeant Masey's pain stick; he was swinging it toward me.

The King looked at Masey and made a slight gesture with one elegant hand. Sergeant Masey let the pain stick fall back at his side.

But the King's gesture had been directed only at Masey. Captain Lance continued to torture Daniel, while the King watched impassively. As the evil crackle of the pain stick continued, accompanied by Daniel's strangled cries, my guts churned. And my jaw clenched. The figure on the throne seemed completely unmoved by Daniel's agony.

"_What kind of man are you?"_ I yelled at him. "Do you really think you're so high and mighty that people should be tortured just for speaking out of turn in your Presence?"

The King's expression barely changed, but I thought his eyes lit with interest. Interest, not anger. However, there was a collective gasp from everyone else. Captain Lance was so shocked that he stopped torturing Daniel. He gaped at me in disbelief for a moment. Then his mouth thinned, and he moved toward me with his pain stick. Sergeant Masey was reaching for his as well. Helpless to avoid what was coming, I hunched my shoulders and tried to prepare myself.

But the King gave a minute shake of his head. The two officers immediately pulled back, though Captain Lance protested. "_Sire!_ Didn't you hear what she _said?_" Which sounded kind of impertinent to me. Apparently, the rules didn't apply to him.

The King's eyes flicked to the uniformed man who shared the dais with him. That Councilor stepped forward, moving lightly despite his years. It was obvious to me he'd been a soldier all his life.

"We all heard it, Captain," said the military Councilor. "Stand down." Then he looked at me. "And just who do you think _you_ are?"

I took a deep breath and answered steadily. "As we already explained to Captain Lance, I'm Major Samantha Carter, and this is my colleague, Dr. Daniel Jackson. We came here accidentally, through the quantum mirror in one of your storerooms. We mean no harm to anyone here. We just want to get home."

Daniel had struggled back to his knees. His glasses were crooked, and with his hands cuffed behind his back, he couldn't straighten them. But other than that, he seemed unaffected by the torture. Daniel was a lot tougher than he appeared. He opened his mouth, and I was afraid he was about to ignore the severe lesson he'd just received, but then he reluctantly pressed his lips together.

"_Major_ Samantha Carter?" questioned the military Councilor, giving me a dubious once-over. "In what army?"

The King just watched, still as a statue. He had yet to say a word. But if he was at all like my Colonel, he wasn't missing a thing.

"Not an army, sir," I replied. "The United States Air Force."

The military Councilor looked disgusted. "Your nation has the gall to call itself the United States? The United States of what?"

Oops. Well, we needed to make these people understand the concept of "alternate reality" – which was never going to be easy. "The United States of America, sir." He looked even more disgusted, as did the other Councilors. "Okay, I guess the USA doesn't exist here anymore," I quickly continued, "but it does where Daniel and I come from. That's what we've been trying to tell you." I gave the King an imploring look. "We came here from an alternate reality – an _alternate Earth_ – through an alien device called the quantum mirror." The King's eyes flickered, but his face remained a mask.

"Alternate reality?" repeated the military Councilor. _His_ expression was easy to read: scornful disbelief.

I focused on the man with the thick glasses, the one I guessed was Councilor Cray. "Quantum mechanics predicts that, whenever an event has more than one possible outcome, _all_ of the possibilities are realized – which creates different realities. An infinite number of alternate realities exist in parallel. The quantum mirror can open a portal between two different realities, allowing people and objects to pass from one to the other. That's how we got here."

The Councilor with the glasses spoke up. "But the alternate reality model is just one _interpretation_ of quantum theory. It's purely speculative. There's no proof that alternate realities actually exist."

"There is now!" I cried. "Thanks to the quantum mirror. This is the third alternate reality we've visited." I looked at Daniel. "Well, it's the first for me, actually, but the third for Daniel."

The uniform-clad Councilor snorted. "Oh, so now there are _alternate_ alternate realities?" His eyes went to Daniel. "And _you've_ visited them all?"

"No, just three," said Daniel. "But our previous trips through the quantum mirror have taught us something: it's possible for information from one reality to be useful in another." Daniel's eyes went to the King, but then back to the Councilor. If he spoke to the King directly, Captain Lance would be on him again. "We aren't your enemies," he said. "On the contrary, we'd very much like to help you. Sam and I may know things that could help you a great deal."

Raising his eyebrows, the King spoke for the first time. "Such as?" His voice was exactly the same as the Colonel's – soft, yet full of deep-rooted strength.

Daniel's gaze went to the last scene on the tapestries – the one that showed Ra's pyramid ship taking off from Cheyenne Mountain. "Such as ways to ensure that your Earth is never again invaded by the Goa'uld," he said.

There was a silence, and I realized Daniel had put his finger on a disturbing aspect of this Earth's situation. Though they'd gotten Ra to leave, there was no guarantee he wouldn't come back one day. Or if not him, then some other Goa'uld. These people might struggle for years – even centuries – to rebuild Earth's civilization, only to have it destroyed again when it got too advanced for the Goa'ulds' liking. After all, that was the pattern we'd seen repeated on many worlds throughout the galaxy.

The King's eyes fastened on Daniel's face, full of glittering intensity. "What sort of ways?"

"There are many possibilities," said Daniel. "Information we gained in the first reality I visited was instrumental in helping us defeat an attempted Goa'uld invasion of our Earth. But you're likely to benefit from contact with the Asgard. They're a benevolent species who are much more technologically advanced than the Goa'uld. In our reality, Earth is now under their protection. It's possible that if you were to contact the Asgard here, they would do the same for you. In fact, that's exactly what just happened in the second alternate reality we visited. In that one, Earth had just been invaded by the Goa'uld Apophis, but we helped them contact the Asgard, who put a stop to that."

The King's eyebrows rose again. "Sounds like you make a habit of saving Earths," he said.

Daniel and I exchanged a quick glance. How closely did this Jonathan O'Neill resemble the one we knew? That comment had a very familiar flavor to it. On the other hand, his casual attitude toward Daniel's torture had been unnerving.

"Oh," said Daniel, voice light and quick, "we like to keep our hand in." The King only raised his eyebrows a little higher, but the other people in the room – especially the soldiers – showed signs of anger at Daniel's flippant tone. Daniel had reacted to the King as if he were the Colonel – which might not be a safe thing to do.

Evidently realizing his mistake, Daniel tried to dig himself out. "_That is,_ Sam and I belong to an organization that's in charge of protecting Earth from the Goa'uld."

"Thought you said these Ass Guards did that," said the King.

Daniel's eyebrows began twitching rapidly. "_Yes,_ they do. But it would be foolish of us to rely exclusively on the Asgard, because they have certain problems of their own. So we continue to search for more effective ways of defending ourselves."

"If the Ass Guards aren't reliable," said the King, "what good are they?"

Daniel's voice remained soft, but became quick and impatient. "They're a whole lot better than what you've got now, which is _nothing_."

_Uh-oh,_ I thought. _He's sliding into Jack-Daniel mode again._

"How _dare_ you?" cried Captain Lance, brandishing his pain stick. He turned toward the King. "Your Majesty! Don't let him speak to you that way!"

But the King once again gave a minute shake of his head, so Captain Lance reluctantly subsided.

"I meant no disrespect," said Daniel, sounding more frustrated than apologetic. "Look… umm… Your Majesty… we can give you the Stargate address for a world called Samaria, which is where _we_ first made contact with the Asgard. We'd be happy to explain how to..."

"_Stargate?"_ snapped the King. "You mean the chappa'ai? You want me to _unbury the chappa'ai?_" The King's voice had acquired a killing edge that Daniel and I knew only too well.

"Yes," said Daniel, his tone cautious. "I realize the Stargate may have played an unfortunate role in your history, but if you want to contact the Asgard… yes, it would have to be unburied."

"Of course it would," said the military Councilor. "So that your Goa'uld masters can return to Earth the easy way."

"We don't have Goa'uld masters," said Daniel, sounding weary.

"Then how do you explain _this?_" the military Councilor yelled. During Daniel's conversation with the King, he'd been going through the drawstring bags that held our belongings. Now, he pulled out a shoulder patch and held it up angrily, showing it to the King and the other Councilors.

Their expressions all hardened. Why were they reacting like that? Then it hit me: that shoulder patch featured the point-of-origin symbol for the Earth – from Ra's Stargate.

Ignoring the rules, I opened my mouth to explain. But Daniel beat me to it. "No, _wait!_" he cried. "Yes, it's true that symbol is on the Stargate, but…"

The King abruptly got up from his throne. Everyone but Daniel and myself stood to attention. We were supposed to bow down, but Daniel tried to continue speaking. Captain Lance jabbed him with the pain stick, and this time, the King didn't intervene. Daniel's words dissolved into cries of agony.

"No!" I shouted. But the King was walking rapidly toward the drapes at the side of the dais. He was leaving.

"Sir!" I yelled after him. "It's not a Goa'uld symbol! The Goa'uld didn't build the…"

Sergeant Masey swung his pain stick at me. I tried to twist away, but the torture device made contact. As my body was enveloped in acidic fire, my thoughts broke apart. But, from a great distance, I recognized Jack's voice. He was shouting.

The agony stopped. I gasped with relief as the pain stick was withdrawn.

The King was standing in front of the draped exit, his eyes on me. I knew he had ordered my punishment to cease – but he hadn't done the same for Daniel. Daniel was once again writhing helplessly on the floor while Captain Lance tortured him.

The King wasn't even looking at him. He wasn't really looking at _me_ anymore, either. He was looking through me, into the middle distance, the way heroic statues often do. Daniel was crying out in pain, and Jack was standing there as if carved in stone.

My eyes stung. I tried to remind myself that he wasn't really Jack, but it didn't stop the ache deep inside me. Though his face was stony, I sensed a terrible sadness in him – even despair. His spirit was draining away, leaving only an imposing shell. He was going back to what he'd been at the beginning of our interview.

The King turned away, preparing to exit.

"_Don't go, sir." _My voice was low and raw with emotion.The words seemed to rise out of the center of my being. He froze for an instant, and then looked toward me. I locked eyes with him, willing him to understand. "We're telling the truth. We're not your enemies. _We're your friends._"

Uncertainty flickered over his face. He closed his eyes for a moment. Then he looked at Captain Lance and said, "That's enough, Michael." His voice was calm and a little sad.

The Captain reluctantly lifted the pain stick from Daniel's back. Daniel let out a sigh and lay still. Apparently, the two extended sessions with the pain stick had caused him to pass out. Which worried me, but I could see he was breathing steadily.

"Thank you, sir," I told the King. "And we can explain about that Stargate symbol," I went on, feeling re-energized, "if you'll just give us a chance. I know our story must sound completely crazy, but that's because it's the truth. If we were trying to deceive you, wouldn't we come up with something more believable?"

The King watched me intently. His expression had gone from stony and lifeless to alert but cryptic, like the Colonel in combat mode. I could tell he was running scenarios in his head and weighing options, but I couldn't tell where his thoughts were heading.

"This audience is over," he said.

My mouth opened in dismay, but he held up a finger. "You'll get another chance to explain things; I promise." Looking toward Captain Lance, he said, "Put this young lady in the Pink Room, but with a guard on the door."

"Yes, Your Majesty," said Captain Lance – though he sounded grumpy about it.

The King turned abruptly and disappeared behind the drapes.

"Wait!" I called after him, but he was already gone. And the Royal Councilors were quickly following the King through the exit. "Hey, what about Daniel?" I yelled.

The last person on the dais was the military Councilor. Pausing just in front of the drapes, he shrugged and said, "Your friend will be thrown in the dungeon." Then he, too, was gone.

----


End file.
